


proposal

by romantium



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bondage, Canon Compliant, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Kink Negotiation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8685346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romantium/pseuds/romantium
Summary: Victor’s not used to restraints, and it turns out the idea of absolute submission is intoxicating.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MotionlessMuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotionlessMuse/gifts).



> always ♥
> 
> I had this idea ever since I saw this breathtaking [fanart](http://romantium.tumblr.com/post/152964764430/ameli-ya-vitya-doodle)~
> 
> [Into You by Ariana Grande](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ekZEVeXwek) is this fic's theme song

“I need to talk to you,” Yuuri says quietly.

“Yes?” Victor replies, nosing along Yuuri’s jaw and pressing kisses just behind his ear. His calves bump up against the mattress and he tips backwards, hoping to bring Yuuri on top of him, but Yuuri remains upright, awkwardly curved over Victor while standing.

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about. For awhile now. Ever since we—” Yuuri pauses, and then inhales a shuddering breath. He motions for Victor to sit up, and Victor notices a mild quiver in his hand. “Since we started—this.”

“Started us~” says Victor, forcing a playful lilt in his voice despite the churning that begins in his stomach. He sits upright and reaches for Yuuri, but Yuuri moves away too fast, taking off his glasses to rub at his eyes as he heads for their luggage.

He begins digging through his trunk, and when he glances at Victor again, Victor plasters a smile on his face — vibrant and bright and hopefully unconcerned — and tries not to panic. He grips his knees to give his hands something to do and is suddenly very glad to be sitting down for this.

This being Yuuri removing something from his bag, hiding it in his fist, leaving his glasses behind in its place.

The present that Victor had given him, most likely, kept hidden and safe until they had time to tell Yuuri’s family.

Yuuri gives a somber smile as he returns to Victor. He’s nervous; that’s clear enough. As he stands before Victor, he can’t quite manage to meet Victor’s eyes, averting his gaze to stare blankly over his shoulders.

“It’s something I want to do. That I—um—really need to do.” Yuuri sucks his bottom lip between his teeth to nibble at it, and Victor starts to panic — caught between imploring Yuuri to stop hurting himself, and to stop Yuuri from saying whatever he’s going to say.

“Okay.” Victor draws out slowly, feeling like he’s going to throw up. He manages to keep his voice light and airy. A miracle.

“And before you get mad! Just—just know I’m really grateful that you gave this to me.” Yuuri’s voice cracks as he speaks. “I know it’s really expensive, but...” He trails off, and holds out his fist.

Victor jerks forward, heart leaping into his throat. Stomach plummeting to the floor. He places his hand under Yuuri’s fist, and tries not to show his dismay. He can go through this with dignity, right? 

Did Yuuri change his mind that fast? It doesn’t make sense, least of all doing this tonight.

This is it.

Yuuri takes a deep breath. Uncurls his fingers.

This is the end.

“I want to tie you up with this tonight,” says Yuuri, presenting the silk necktie Victor had purchased for him back in Russia.

There’s a moment of silence — of near silence. Not silent enough. Not with Victor’s constricting heart releasing a rush of blood through his ears, the hum from the window A/C ambiently warming their hotel room, the off-distant muffle of vehicles and late nightlife of the city, the weight of Yuuri’s words whispering across his skin.

In the moment of near silence Yuuri looks at him finally: brows quirked downward, lip caught again between his teeth, a look of confusion or hesitance or fear or all three — any moment now Yuuri might bolt, run out of the room and the hotel and to who knows where in the city, if Victor doesn’t respond.

Victor tosses his head back and bursts into relieved laughter, the tightness in his body uncurling like a broken spring. “Yuuri! You’re always a wonderful surprise!” He manages to gasp out while still giggling. Nevermind the nausea that still threatens his stomach.

“You’re—laughing at me?”

Victor’s giggles die instantly. He looks up. The thin line of Yuuri’s mouth twists, curving downward where his gentle smile usually sits instead, with something new akin to shame flickering across his face now. “Laughing?” Victor stammers out, reaching forward to catch Yuuri’s wrists. “Oh no, no, not at you.”

He tugs Yuuri forcibly to him, the necktie fluttering in the air, until Yuuri has to either fall into his lap or on the bed beside him. Yuuri chooses the bed, his wrists twisting out of Victor’s grip, and he looks down at the floor.

“I thought you were mad at me,” Victor lies smoothly, and continues at Yuuri’s puzzled frown, “You were so serious.” He leans in. Presses careful lips to the corner of Yuuri’s mouth. Nuzzles his nose against Yuuri’s cheek. 

“Oh,” whispers Yuuri, barely a breath, and turns his head until his chapped lips brush against Victor’s. “I wasn’t. I mean, I’m not. Mad. I’m not mad.”

“But you are serious, yes?” Victor pushes a trembling hand through Yuuri’s hair, keeping his bangs back from his face so he can see Victor’s encouraging smile.

“Mmhm. I did research.” A glorious shade of pink blossoms on Yuuri’s cheeks. “I thought about it I’ve thought about it for awhile and decided—today. For my—you know.” He adds a quick, “Only if you want to!”

“Research?” Yuuri just hums in response to his question. “Sex? Bondage?” Victor presses on. “Other… kinks?”

“The things I saw—I’m not—they’re a little—” He flails the necktie uselessly, face flushing a deeper pink. “Maybe another time. For some of them.”

“You want to tie me up.” Victor drops his voice low, enjoying this miraculous turn of events. The nausea is fading away as arousal slowly begins to take its place. “Have you been naughty? Have you already come to the thought of me tied up?”

“Stop, please. This is embarrassing.” Yuuri lays a hand flat on Victor’s chest. “There is something else I want to do with you, if you let me.”

Victor laughs in delight and tilts his head to the side, arching his eyebrows in invitation. “What else do you want to do, Yuuri?”

Yuuri sucks in a shallow breath. “I want you to listen to me. To do as I say. Within reason, of course. You can stop playing at any time.”

“Why the game?” Victor asks teasingly, pressing the tip of his nose against Yuuri’s. “Have I been boring?”

Yuuri’s lips form a moue. “ _You_ are never boring. I just…” He laces his fingers through Victor’s. Rubs a thumb across his knuckles. “I think you’ll like it.”

“So you want to tie me up, and—what? Dominate me? Hurt me?”

“I don’t want to _really_ hurt you,” Yuuri blurts out. “I promise. Not with… anything unpleasant.” He slides a hand through Victor’s hair, sharp nails grazing his scalp. “May I?” 

Victor nods, the fingers threaded in his hair tugging at the strands, and then Yuuri suddenly _yanks_ — stretching his neck until Victor’s dizzying vision tries to focus on the ceiling, his head resting in the palm of Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri’s mouth is hot on neck, peppering kisses up the side of his bared throat and nipping under his jawline. Victor flails to grip whatever part of Yuuri he can take of hold, but Yuuri knocks his attempts away with his free hand.

“Like this,” Yuuri whispers, and immediately sinks his teeth into the divot of Victor’s shoulder. It’s sharp and firm — holding Victor in place with both his mouth and the hand in his hair, not allowing Victor to touch him as he sucks an aching bruise to the surface.

“Okay,” Victor stutters out, licking his parched lips. He can barely speak, with his throat arched so far back. “Okay.” His entire body is now aching with heat and urgency and need by the time Yuuri releases him, releases his grip on Victor’s throat and hair, and Victor is already so, _so_ hard. All Victor can think about is— “Okay. I want it.”

The brilliant smile alone that Yuuri gives him is worth it. “Good,” says Yuuri. His eyes briefly flicker down then back up to meet Victor’s, smile shrinking until just the corner of his lip is turned up coyly. “Now is good?”

Victor nods, voice caught in his throat. Yuuri hums happily as he begins twisting the necktie into intricate loops and twists. He remains steadfast, concentration perfect, even when Victor’s hands slip under his shirt. He can’t help but run his fingertips across Yuuri’s chest, smoothing down his waist and stomach, the outsides of his thighs.

The anticipation is maddening. He wants to touch Yuuri everywhere. 

Because he’s not sure how long it’ll be before he can touch him again.

“Hold up your hands.” Yuuri says, and shifts to his knees to dislodge Victor’s hand that palms over the front of Yuuri’s pants. “Both of them.”

“Oh~ Can I argue with you?” Victor holds up his hands far apart, spreading his fingers in two V-signs. “Will you like it if I fight back?”

Without deigning a reply, Yuuri loops the necktie around Victor’s hands like a perfect pair of handcuffs. He pulls the end tails of the fabric to snugly bring his wrists together. The silk is soft and pleasant against his skin. It doesn’t hurt. 

Yet.

“Is this still okay?” Yuuri asks.

“Perfect,” he says, and tests his new bonds, rotating his hands to find that the silk does give a punishing sting when he moves, but thankfully doesn’t tighten its hold any further.

Yuuri nods solemnly, holding onto the tails of the necktie, and again jerks hard like he had with Victor’s hair. Victor follows the momentum — awkwardly bending forward over his own thighs so he’s forced to look at the swell in Yuuri’s pants, forehead resting against Yuuri’s sternum.

“I don’t want you to fight back,” Yuuri murmurs into the shell of Victor’s ear, and Victor shivers from the tickling puffs of hot air. “I told you already. I want you to do _exactly_ as I say. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” breathes Victor.

“You will like it,” Yuuri reassures, and lets go of the necktie. “I can’t tie your hands to anything, so—” He gently pushes at Victor’s shoulders until he’s upright and then points at the expanse of the satin sheets welcoming both of them. “Put your hands above your head and keep them there.”

Victor leans back on the pillows, settling his wrists rest above his head. “What is next?” His pants are uncomfortably tight now. “What are you going to do with me, Yuuri?”

Yuuri slides over his legs to straddle his hips — and oh, Yuuri is definitely as excited as him — and begins popping open the buttons of his oxford one by one. He bares Victor’s chest, letting the shirt fall loosely against Victor’s sides.

“You look really good,” Yuuri exhales slowly, fingertips ghosting across Victor’s chest.

“Of course I do,” Victor jokes, and the barely there upward curl of Yuuri’s lips makes his heart stutter. “You look like you want to eat—ah—!” His hips helplessly jerk up as Yuuri pinches his left nipple.

Victor whines as Yuuri follows the pinch with a teasing circle of his tongue. Yuuri sucks the nipple lightly between his teeth, just like he had done to his own lip earlier, and then moves on to lick a wet stripe over Victor’s right nipple.

“You look really good too. Over me like this,” Victor says weakly, and he clears his throat, pitching his voice low once again to taunt, “Are you going to ride me? Or will you finger me open instead?”

Yuuri releases his nipple from his mouth. “Stop talking.”

“Will you fuck me against the headboard?” Victor continues his taunting and bucks his hips upwards, letting out a squeaky laugh as Yuuri nearly loses his perch. Yuuri stares at him with wide eyes and pursed lips. “Will you make me beg for your cock?”

“Victor,” he says simply, exhaling noisily before resting a finger against Victor’s lips. “I will get one of _your_ ties too and _make_ you stop talking.”

The finality in his threat grips Victor tight, and, impossibly, Victor feels his cock grow even harder — straining at the zipper of his slacks and calling for Yuuri to touch him. He experimentally rolls his hips again, seeking friction from Yuuri’s body, and as he does, he opens his mouth to suck Yuuri’s finger into his mouth.

Yuuri’s face is impassive as Victor teases the web between Yuuri’s fingers with his tongue. The urge to call Yuuri’s bluff, the desire to openly defy Yuuri’s command and force his hand — the idea of Yuuri actually doing it thrills him.

But is he really playing the game if Yuuri specifically asked for him to do exactly as he said?

Victor’s not used to restraints, and it turns out the idea of absolute submission is intoxicating.

He lets go of Yuuri’s finger, but Yuuri doesn’t pull it out, letting it sit on Victor’s tongue. Instead, Yuuri’s thumb brushes along Victor’s chin and then he grips tight, pulling Victor’s chin down. 

Yuuri leans forward, eyes narrow and gaze unreadable as he peers down at Victor. “You agreed, Victor,” Yuuri says firmly. “You will not speak, unless you want to stop completely.”

The high pitched desperate whine comes involuntarily, before Victor can even think to stop it, but there’s a mischievous curl to Yuuri’s lips. “If you speak, and you don’t want to stop,” Yuuri continues, “I will gag you with one of your ties or with my cock. And the choice won’t be yours.”

“Do you understand?” Yuuri lets go of him and sits back, and Victor smacks his lips shut before he can verbally reply or let loose a hysterical sob. Yuuri is unmoving, still waiting for a reply, but Victor knows it’s a trick now. He tips his head in acknowledgement, and Yuuri lets out a short pleased giggle.

The heat and friction of Yuuri’s body against his leaves as Yuuri slides off him, but, as a reward, Yuuri drags a hand along Victor’s erection, palming his cock easily through his slacks. “Good boy,” whispers Yuuri, and Victor’s cock twitches in his hand. Yuuri laughs again.

Victor’s belt is unbuckled. The button of his slacks is undone. The zipper is carefully pulled down. Fingers slip against his skin and, with maddening slowness, Yuuri tugs both his slacks and underwear down his legs and drops them carelessly on the floor.

Yuuri’s seen him naked dozens, maybe hundreds, of times. Relaxing in the onsen, making love, lounging in each other’s arms with shed clothes to feel the other’s truest warmth. Victor has never been shy about his body, and Yuuri has become accustomed with familiarity and comfort with it.

But there’s no comfort in Yuuri’s eyes. There’s only unabashed hunger as his gaze rakes down Victor’s body, as if this is the first time that Victor has lain naked before him, and Victor is a delicious meal to consume.

(His joke about Yuuri wanting to eat him, earlier, is suddenly too real.)

He’s sweating just a bit under the cotton material of his oxford, and his cock is aroused and aching against his abdomen, but a shiver runs through him still.

Yuuri strips out of his own clothes without preamble and plants a knee on the bed. Victor spreads his legs apart without prompting, drawing his knees up so his heels are flush to his bottom, and he wonders — with an exhilarating thrill — if he’ll get in trouble for taking the initiative.

But Yuuri just settles in between his thighs, his erection deliciously brushing against Victor’s as he curves over him. “I want to hear you moan,” he says, and bites at the soft skin of Victor’s stomach. It’s harsh and painful, but it’s not completely unpleasant — just like Yuuri had promised, and Victor’s cock gives another interested twitch.

His lips wander across Victor’s skin, sometimes trailing soft kisses, sometimes leaving bites that will surely leave lasting marks. As his mouth moves, so do his hands, smoothing over Victor’s body where his lips don’t go.

He nudges Victor’s jaw up with his nose to nibble at the tender skin at the front of his throat before biting, hard, and Victor grunts at the keen-edged pain. The teasing is simultaneously terrible and wonderful and he hopes it will never end.

But Yuuri is _very_ pointedly ignoring his cock — he wants to scream at Yuuri to just get on with it. When Yuuri’s hands finally trail further down, Victor holds his breath, wanting and needing, but Yuuri just drags his nails along the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, leaving a delicious sting in their wake.

Victor lets out the air at once in a frustrated moan and his hands curl into fists.

It’s only fair that he should trust Yuuri — again and again Yuuri has placed his heart and body in Victor’s care. Even this game they’re playing is another fragile piece that he’s offered up. It’s more than just sex to Yuuri (it’s _always_ more than _just sex_ to Yuuri, he reminds himself) — and Victor willingly placing himself bound and pliant in Yuuri’s careful hands is just another way Victor can return the trust.

He lets out a long exhale of breath. Closes his eyes. Turns his face into the pillow. His position is not entirely uncomfortable — in another time, if he wasn’t so incredibly wound up tight with Yuuri teasing and tormenting him and withholding any attention to what Victor really wants, it may even be relaxing. 

When Yuuri is in his element — his mind is clear and loose, his limbs willing and ready, either on the ice or under Victor’s hands — he’s an exquisite instrument that moves his audience with elegant chords and alluring arias. 

Victor is the instrument now, and Yuuri’s lips and tongue and teeth and fingers play a melody just as captivating, pulling out little gasps and moans deep from Victor’s throat.

He slowly uncurls his fingers. Settles deeper into the pillows. His knees fall apart with a gentle nudge from Yuuri’s, giving Yuuri access to trail his open-mouthed kisses and little nips all the way down an inner thigh, to the bend of his knee — and then doing just the same to his other leg.

He ignores his wrists bound above his head. He ignores the thought of how many bruises Yuuri has coaxed out on his skin. Every move that Yuuri makes is done with such deliberate consideration, as if he’s trying to print every line and curve of Victor’s body to memory.

Smooth fingertips graze the head of his cock, and Victor shudders, toes curling against the sheets — and the fingertips continue their path, teasing up and down the length of him, before dipping lower, lower and lower —

“You guessed right,” laughs out Yuuri, and slides a finger inside of Victor at the same time his mouth sinks down on Victor’s cock with an appreciative hum.

Victor’s eyes shoot open, and he chokes out a desperate _moan_ , hips rolling up to meet the new and welcoming slick heat. Yuuri grips his waist tight against the bed with his free hand, and he curls the finger inside of Victor. 

Yuuri looks exquisitely lewd, lips stretched obscenely as he takes in his cock, all the way down until his nose is brushing against the hairs of his groin. And he’s watching Victor in return, lashes dark and shadowing his eyes. 

There’s a challenge in his gaze, or a promise — and then he sucks mercilessly hard, throat swallowing around his cock. A guttural sound, muffled. Again. Victor tries to control his voice, for the sake of the other hotel guests — but then Yuuri pulls off his cock with a soft _pop_.

Victor nearly panics. Did he do something wrong? He’s just doing what Yuuri wants, and what Yuuri wants is to hear him moan. He’s doing what Yuuri _wants_.

“You taste really good,” Yuuri says, voice hoarse and heavy, and licks at the smear of precome on his upper lip. 

Victor whimpers in response, lightheaded at the curl of praise that tightens his entire body like a coiled spring.

“You sound good too. I want more.”

He strains to move — to cup the back of Yuuri’s neck, to tangle his fingers in Yuuri’s hair — his fingers twitch in frantic need to touch Yuuri. There’s a substantial weight on his arms; he tries to fight against it, to reach out to Yuuri — 

Yuuri dips down again, tongue teasing the head of Victor’s cock and lapping up the precome that dribbles down his length. His world dissolves to the tantalizing heat and slickness and pressure as Yuuri’s mouth slides down his cock again.

Yuuri wants _more_ , and so Victor gives in — to the wonderful warmth and the breathtaking bob of Yuuri’s head over his cock, as Yuuri continues working a finger in and out of him, teasing and coaxing him relentlessly. 

Quiet moans, at first, then growing in intensity and volume in a perfect crescendo. Yuuri no longer pins his hips to the bed — his nails, instead, drag and rake down his chest, his stomach, his outer thigh. It’s hot and overwhelming, and Victor has to close his eyes, throwing his head back as his hips rock up into Yuuri’s heat — 

Being pulled from the edge is pure unadulterated torture, when Yuuri pulls off his cock once again, finger stilling inside of Victor. A frantic plea is on the tip of Victor’s tongue when warmth cups his jaw.

“Look at me,” Yuuri says. A command, pulling Victor from the depths of his arousal and impatience and desperation, and consuming him helplessly, his lashes rise just enough to look at Yuuri. There’s a fire in his eyes, and his lips are bruised and swollen and glistening. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”

Victor hastily bows his head in agreement — anything, _anything_ , to be released and relieved — and watches Yuuri mouth at the tip of his cock, his finger pushing back inside Victor.

It’s the pain that does him in, he thinks, of Yuuri’s nails pinching and digging into the soft flesh of his thigh; or the smirk on Yuuri’s face, somehow the coy upward curl of his lips still present even as they’re stretched over his cock; or how Yuuri swallows down every one of Victor’s whimpers and whines, perfectly in tune to the vibrations Yuuri hums around Victor’s cock.

He doesn’t really know what does him in. He can’t control it, and he certainly doesn’t want to stop it. It draws him in like gravity, a weight he can’t escape, and with an upward cant of his hips into Yuuri’s welcoming heat, he comes down Yuuri’s throat in a keening, shivering mess.

He faints, he thinks, or his mind short circuits — there’s haze that wasn’t there before, an awareness of something electric and soothing and golden and warm settling over him. His eyelids are heavy, but he manages to lift them open, to see Yuuri curved over him — 

There’s solace in the haze, but he struggles to touch Yuuri still, to speak to him. 

“Yuuri,” he calls out, tongue heavy in his mouth, and tries to move his arms but the weight is still there, keeping him pinned to the pillows. Yuuri is balancing a hand against Victor’s stomach, the other fisting over his own cock. “Let me help you.”

“I’m not going to last,” Yuuri gasps out, voice brittle and just on the edge of ruined. He strokes a few more times before he comes with a hoarse moan, splattering come on Victor’s stomach and thighs. “Hah—” He exhales raggedly and leans forward until his forehead rests upon Victor’s hips, hands fitting against Victor’s knees. 

“Yuuri,” Victor pleads, tongue not working right, heart beating fast in his chest. “Yuuri, I can’t move.”

Yuuri pushes himself up and curves over Victor, covering his mouth with his before he could speak. The kiss is slow, gentle, reassuring. Victor can taste himself, but he doesn’t mind. (It’s not the first time.) Yuuri’s hands slide up Victor’s arms to — to untie Victor’s wrists? 

He had forgotten. He had _forgotten_. It floods into his memory, and despite the remembrance, Victor is left feeling completely empty. He’s completely drained and surprisingly exhausted, as if Yuuri sucked the life force out of him.

“My— shirt,” he stutters out. “It’s hot.” It’s unbearably hot in the room, and he’s sweating profusely underneath his oxford.

Yuuri helps Victor to a sitting position. His muscles protest with a twinging pain, but Yuuri draws down his arms and unties his bonds. Helps tug his shirt off and tosses it somewhere to the floor. 

The air is a blessed relief and Victor sucks in deep breaths. 

He falls back to the bedsheets and Yuuri lets him, sinking down onto the mattress beside him. Yuuri begins massaging his wrists one by one, the skin tender and sore to the touch. 

“You’re shaking,” Yuuri says with a tone of wonder, and Victor has no idea what he’s talking about, he’s perfectly fine, he’s fine, he’s just trying to focus. 

He attempts to roll onto his side, come dribbling down his stomach, and he curls around Yuuri’s body as Yuuri’s hands move to massage life back into Victor’s shoulders. He stretches his legs out, both of his knees making little popping noises, and he experimentally flexes his toes. This is a strange feeling too — that his body could be both incredibly relaxed and sore at once.

“You were really good, Victor,” says Yuuri, and Victor’s lungs contract in his chest in some newfound strange combination of pride and delight. But there’s a shimmer at the corners of Yuuri’s eyes and, confused, Victor brushes the tears from his eyes. 

“Why—?” Victor asks, but Yuuri shakes his head with a laugh, head dropping to place kisses against Victor’s chin and cheeks and to his mouth again. They kiss until Victor is half asleep with it, lazily moving his lips until Yuuri pulls away with a final suck on his upper lip. 

“Stay with me,” Victor implores, reaching out blindly even though Yuuri has already rolled off the bed. He wants to move, follow Yuuri wherever he went, but his organs and muscles and bones still aren’t quite back together yet.

Yuuri returns a few minutes later, smelling of fresh mint, with a warm wet cloth. “Do you want to sleep?” he asks quietly, touching Victor’s cheek.

“Ah, Yuuri—you love me so much?” He replies with instead, feeling overly petulant now that the game is over. Yuuri nods with a gentle smile, wiping away the come and sweat from Victor’s skin, the cloth rubbing uncomfortably raw on the bruises and marks. 

“Did you like it?” He presses on without clarification, as Yuuri tries maneuvering both of them under the duvet. “You will wear it to sleep, yes? It’s your gift.”

“My birthday still isn’t for another hour,” Yuuri says with a gentle smile, and holds up his hand to Victor’s, wiggling his fingers to show off the thin golden band.

“I will give you a second gift for tomorrow,” Victor murmurs, slinging an arm over Yuuri’s chest and knee over his leg. “I will wrap myself in ribbons for you.”

Yuuri makes a thoughtful noise, arms settling around Victor’s shoulders. “Does this mean you liked it? Will you play again with me?”

“Mmhm. More than I thought,” he admits, snuggling closer and breathing in the crook of Yuuri’s throat.

“Good, because,” says Yuuri, “I never gave you permission to speak after you came.” Victor’s breath stutters in his throat. Yuuri just laughs, warm and rich, and he presses a chaste kiss to Victor’s forehead. 

“Sleep, first.” The soft command lulls over Victor, like a soothing lullaby welcoming him to sleep, and Victor’s lashes drift down.

“Tomorrow,” says Yuuri, voice full of promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Yuuri~!
> 
> [♥](http://romantium.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Edit: And here's another gorgeous [fanart](http://romantium.tumblr.com/post/154183179985/incaseyourensfw-viktor-and-yuri-enjoying-a-cuddle) that, although done well after this fic was published, I couldn't help but linking here anyway because AAAAHHH IT'S THE END OF THIS FIC!!! ;3


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